Chapter 26 - The Binding

The day dawned beautiful and serene. Anor shone brightly in the sky and everything was suffused in pleasant warmth. The meadow for the wedding sparkled as Legolas has promised and the guests assembled, eager to see their Prince married. Everyone was dressed in their best finery and there was a general air of excitement.

Except in Legolas’ room. Gimli and Faramir watched with great amusement as Legolas argued with Herenion about the way he should braid his hair. Legolas insisted that there was no need for him to wear the elaborate knots of the Heir; his simple braids would do as well. Herenion, very patiently, explained for the fifth time that as the Prince he had to wear the knots.

Of course, reminding Legolas of duty was probably not the most sensible thing to do – it only gave him the opportunity to bemoan his fate, which he had been doing since Anor had risen hours earlier. Faramir was most interested in this state of affairs; he found it fascinating the way Legolas could say exactly the same thing in so many different ways – he did not want to get married.

Faramir wondered how long Legolas’ considerable vocabulary would last. There was something to be said for thousands of years of experience. Of course, Herenion had even more practice to his credit. For every complaint that Legolas had, Herenion calmly came up with a counterargument, which essentially came down to “You are a Prince, you will do this. Or else …”

This side of his Elven friend fascinated even Gimli; he had not realised that Legolas could be this nervous about anything. But, as Gimli thought with deep regret, no one should be have to marry a person they did not love. No wonder Legolas was nervous; he was condemning himself to a lifetime of civility – and not even Gimli could imagine how long that would be for an Elf.

Sometimes immortality was more of a curse for the Firstborn.

“Come on, lad. Do what Herenion says. You do not want to keep your guests waiting, now do you?”

Gimli’s attempt to lighten the mood only served to annoy Legolas further. He turned on the Dwarf, blue eyes filled with rage and fear. “Do you find this amusing, Master Dwarf?”

Before Gimli could bristle as Legolas’ tone, Faramir got up and placed himself in front of the dwarf. Placing a gentle but firm hand on the Elf’s shoulder, he said, “No Legolas, none of us find this amusing. We understand what you are going to do, we understand your pain, dear friend. But it does not change what is about to happen.”

“You are a Prince, never forget that. Now it time for you to act like one,” Herenion said firmly, presenting Legolas with his royal robes with a chilling finality.

Legolas looked at the clothes and back up at his friends. “Thank you, my friends. Having you here means a lot to me. I am ready.”

And the Prince took the clothes from Herenion.

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When that little temper-tantrum was over, Herenion was very pleased to see that Legolas dressed with great speed. A pale green tunic, patterned with real silver thread and encrusted with tiny emeralds was put on first. It seemed that Thranduil had not spared any expense on his son’s clothing. A rich dark green robe made of the finest velvet completed the costume. The sleeves almost brushed the floor, indicating Legolas’ royal stature, and intricately woven into the velvet with dark green thread was the Royal Crest of the House of Oropher. The Heir’s Crown glimmered in Legolas’ golden hair, signalling Legolas’ heritage even from a distance.

When Legolas turned to face his friends, for a moment they were taken aback by the expression on his face. This was not their friend; this was Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, immortal elf, Firstborn. Never had they been more conscious of the difference between themselves and this immortal creature they had come to love. As he looked upon them with those rich blue eyes, they knew what the word regal meant.

And then Legolas tugged at his heavily worked collar, grumbling, “This is most uncomfortable. When I am King I am going to ban formal clothing completely.” That broke the spell that he managed to cast on his friends – as he had intended.

They grinned at him and he smiled back. Legolas had returned.

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“Must you wear this, Mistress?” Istion asked as he twisted the silver strands in Rhinure’s hair.

“Yes, I believe this is the traditional dress of the Heir’s bride.”

“But, it is … so …” Istion was not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Conspicuous,” Morion said in a faintly disapproving tone. “You will stand out amongst the guests.”

“I believe I am supposed to.”

“Then why did you not wear the Avari wedding dress?” Ehtewen asked reasonably.

“Does it matter? I could dress in full battle armour and the vows will still be as binding.”

The three other Avari nodded, Rhinure had a point.

“Still …” Istion continued as he finished dressing Rhinure’s hair.

*~ It would have been lovely to see you in our dress. ~*

“Still nothing. Anyway, I think I am supposed to dazzle them, not shock them out of the few wits they have at present.”

Ehtewen, with centuries of experience under her belt, controlled herself with Avari assurance. Istion and Morion were less successful, and Rhinure inwardly smiled to see them grin, even if it was for a moment.

“Are you ready?” Ehtewen said a little sternly, this was a solemn occasion and should be treated as such.

“Yes,” Rhinure arose and walked towards the meadow – and Legolas.

*~ You look beautiful, little one. ~* Ehtewen thought as she joined her Mistress.

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“You look well, my son. You face is turning a very becoming green to match your tunic,” Thranduil complimented his son.

Legolas only glared at his father, not trusting his voice to say anything. He was afraid that only a pitiful croak would come out if he opened his mouth – ever.

“Do not worry so, my son. This nervousness is natural at one’s wedding. I too was a wreck when I was marrying your mother.”

“ADA, would you please stop talking, you are not helping.” Sure enough, Legolas’ voice came out as a croak.

“Maybe this will help, my Prince.” Legolas looked up to see Arandur standing in front of him, dressed in full uniform – which happened to be black.

“Did you not have anything more depressing to wear, Captain?” Legolas asked, finding his voice again.

“No, my Lord. I wear what is expected of me.”

Legolas looked a little closer at the Captain. Arandur was wearing what he had come to call the Avari uniform – basic black, non-descript tunic; except that he wore the badge Thranduil had given him when Arandur had taken over the Captaincy. Today, Arandur dressed as both Avari and Captain of the King’s Home Guard. It was a striking mix.

But Legolas’ eyes were drawn to the blade Arandur wore on his side. Even though it was sheathed, Legolas could tell it was no ceremonial blade. It was a weapon of war, encased in the most intricately worked scabbard he had ever seen. The scabbard appeared to be completely black until one looked closer and then one realised that it was worked in even darker thread, forming some unknown script.

“I have never seen you wear that, Arandur,” Legolas commented.

“Because I have never worn it before today. It is my Blade.”

“Your blade? I have seen you use other swords before.”

“You misunderstand, my Lord. This sword was given to me by the Sacrifice. Now is not the time to explain this to you, so let us just say that it is my Avari sword. After 2000 years I can wear it at my side.”

Legolas looked at the Captain and he saw pride in the elf’s carriage. Legolas could not even imagine how it must have felt to always deny one’s heritage. To live in the shadows, pretending to be what one was not. For someone proud like Arandur, it must have been very difficult. Only now did Legolas appreciate what Rhinure had meant by living out in the open, with honour. This marriage had already allowed one elf to reclaim his dignity, and for that Legolas was glad.

“Now, what did you have to give to me, Captain?” Legolas asked.

“The silversmith finished the karha you asked for.” Arandur lifted the cover from the box he was holding. Inside was the karha Legolas had asked to be made. As hoped it was beautiful, nestled in the blue velvet the silver sparked brightly. As Anor caught the delicate chains, Legolas thought it would look lovely on Rhinure’s hand.

“Thank you, Arandur. I am pleased with it. Then, everything is in place?”

“Except to explain what you need to do with the karha,” Arandur replied. “Mistress Rhinure will ask you four questions. After you have answered them, you slip a ring on her finger. Then she will ask you the final question and you can clasp the bracelet to her wrist. All you have to remember is that the third finger of her left hand remains free.”

Legolas nodded, it seemed simple enough. “But why does she ask me the questions; is there no person to stand for her?”

“The vows are between you and her. Why would she want or need a third party involved?”

Legolas looked at Thranduil; he could not imagine not having his father officiate at his wedding. It was a way of acknowledging the love he had for this elf. Then he mentally shrugged; obviously, Rhinure would not see it that way. “I understand, Arandur. When is Rhinure expected?”

“I think she is coming now.”

Legolas realised that people around him were whispering because the bride had entered the grounds. In his nervousness, he had forgotten that he was standing in the centre of a huge crowd; and thinking about it now did not make him feel any better.

As he turned to greet his bride, all he could think of was *~ I hope she is not wearing black. ~*

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When Legolas first saw Rhinure, he immediately thought that a mistake had been made. This elleth standing in front of him could not be Rhinure; where was his betrothed? This elf was so … normal looking.

The elleth in front of him was dressed in a pale green dress, much like his basic tunic. Silver threads were woven into the silken material, catching light when Rhinure moved, causing her to glitter. The voluminous folds of her gown rustled lightly as she walked – towards him. Her waist was clinched by an intricately worked silver belt and her arms very covered in a gauzy material which hinted at the pale skin beneath it.

To Legolas’ prejudiced eyes she appeared small, as if she had been stripped of her armour and laid bare before him. The layers that made up Rhinure had been stripped off to reveal this maiden. It was disturbing to realise that Rhinure was a normal elf – and not a bad looking one at that.

Yes, Legolas did not like this transformation. He did not like the way the dress clung to her waist and body, or the way the tiny bells on her belt tinkled as her hips moved. He especially did not like the way her hair hung down her back – loose and free. The silver and green ornaments that had been woven into the hair made it twinkle and reminded Legolas of stars shining against the night sky. No, he wanted the Rhinure he had gotten used to back – not this maid.

He frowned at the appreciative murmurs from the crowd – did they not understand? This was not Lady Rhinure; this was not she as she was meant to be. This was a masquerade, a mockery of what she was. He almost glowered at the Elves who were looking at her as she walked past them. None of them had the right to see her like this.

Rhinure came up to stand next to him, taking in his scowling expression. She raised her eyebrows at him, allowing Legolas to look into her eyes. It was there he found his Rhinure again. Yes, he recognised those eyes, if nothing else. They were still cold and mocking, and wonderful.

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Thranduil cleared his throat to catch everyone’s attention. The Sun was still shining and the entire meadow was filled with the sweet smell of fresh grass. It was a good day to get married.

Now only if his son would stop glowering at any elf who looked at Rhinure. It was upsetting the guests; it upset him as well. Thranduil had never imagined his son was capable of such a defensive look. All he had done was greet his new daughter when he realised that his son was staring at him – none too kindly either.

It was time to get them married, before Legolas killed someone. Or Rhinure did it for him. She was almost fidgeting in that dress – most unbecoming.

Thranduil raised his voice so that all might hear him clearly, “We are all gathered here today to witness the binding of my son, Prince Legolas to the Lady Rhinure. On this joyous occasion we give all blessings to this couple. Does anyone have any reservations to this joining?”

Thankfully no one answered, though most people there had doubts. A union between an Eldar and an Avari was bad enough but an Avari marrying their Prince – disgusting. Naturally, Thranduil’s ominous glare helped hold their tongues. The Avari did not bother – the binding would happen, objections or not. Anyway, they did not have any right to object; this was a personal matter between Legolas and Rhinure.

Once it became clear that no on was going to say anything, Legolas took Rhinure’s hand and placed his palm against hers. In a clear voice he said, “I choose you to be my partner through all eternity and beyond, to honour you, cherish you, … love you. May I always make you happy.”

Rhinure did not miss the slight hesitation before Legolas said the word ‘love’. But then it was as much as she expected, she knew that even if this part of his vow was said just to keep up appearances, the rest he would uphold. Of that she had no doubt.

Thranduil asked Rhinure, “Is that welcome to you?”

Rhinure nodded and with that, the Silvan ceremony declared him her husband. All it took was one vow from him to bind them together. Legolas could only wonder at how the simple words hid the days of pressure and turmoil. With such simple words he had committed himself.

He almost did not hear the happy cheers that filled the crowd.

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Arandur stepped forward once the Silvan ceremony was over. He still held the box with the karha in it. Rhinure glanced down at the ornament, and looked up at Legolas again. He smiled to see the admiration in her eyes – he was glad that she found it beautiful. He gently pressed the palm he was still holding – telling her silently that it was only what she deserved. And she, as quietly, told him that she appreciated the gesture.

Arandur brought up the karha, breaking the silent communication between the two and reminding her that her vows remained.

Rhinure took a deep breath, if she ever had any doubts about what she was going to do this was the last chance to step back. Once she said her vows, she would belong to Legolas. He would be her Lord, her husband. Was this the right thing to do? Was there no other way?

And she looked into his blue eyes, so clear and so pure. They filled her senses, washed her clean, leaving no rooms for doubts. Yes, this was the right thing to do.

In a clear, steady voice she asked, “I pledge to you my duty; do you accept?”

Legolas was somewhat taken back at the seriousness of the question. He had been right when he had said that the Avari took the lightness from the joining – Rhinure’s vows were not something to rejoice in, they were something to accept, to bear.

Legolas answered with an equally calm voice, “Yes,” and slipped the first ring onto her thumb. It had begun.

“I pledge to you my obedience; do you accept?”

“Yes.” And he slipped the ring onto her first finger. Two chains binding her now, two more to go.

“I pledge these for all my life; do you accept?”

The third ring slipped onto her second finger. This was the last moment she would be unmarried, beholden to only three vows. This was the last moment of her freedom.

“I pledge these for beyond my Death; do you accept?”

The last ring, such a small thing, settled on the last finger. Such a small thing, for such a huge vow.

“Do you accept me?”

Legolas looked at Rhinure, realising that even now he could say no. He could still turn back, after accepting all her vows he could still sunder this union. All he had to do was refuse her. He looked into her eyes and found himself saying, “Yes,” without hesitation. Without even realising it he had automatically snapped the bracelet to her wrist. It was done.

She was his - they were married.

Rhinure looked at the completed karha – the four rings sparkling in the noon Sun. She was married, her old life was over.

She took a small step back from Legolas, bringing her fist to her heart – a salute she had always accepted as Sacrifice, today she gave to this elf.

“You have my Honour, my husband.”

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Thranduil watched as his son and daughter just stared at each other. His daughter. It was bizarre to even think those words, let alone have them come true in front of him. His little son, his joy in life, was married. Thranduil smiled at the couple, gently guiding them towards the feasting area.

*~ I hope I have done the right thing, my son. ~*

As Legolas sat down, Thranduil whispered into his ear, “I love you, little one.”

Legolas glanced up at his father; this complicated elf who had frightened him, ruled over him and in the end always loved him. His heart swelled with the love he felt for his father, his King, and the only words he had were the inadequate, “As do I, Ada.”

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Rhinure sat on the King’s right, while Legolas was placed on his left; as custom demanded. Legolas was not pleased; he would have preferred to sit with his friends – and Rhinure. After all, was it not his wedding feast? At least, Gimli sat next to him, obviously enjoying the food.

^That was a interesting ceremony, even though I understood none of it,^ Gimli commented, in the pause between taking his next bite.

^Yes, interesting,^ Legolas commented absentmindedly, looking over at Rhinure, noting that she was not eating much. In fact, she looked a little paler than usual. Though, he could not be sure, that blasted hair of hers was covering her profile. Legolas was greatly tempted to get up and sweep it away from her face. However, he figured his father would not appreciate the display.

Rhinure turned and Legolas found himself looking into her eyes and they did not seem particularly happy. What had he done now?

^Stop staring at her, Elf. You are making her uncomfortable,^ Gimli said sharply.

^What are you talking about?^ Legolas asked, not taking his eyes away from Rhinure.

^No one likes being stared at, especially over someone’s head. Anyway, you will get time with her tonight. ^

^Tonight?^ That brought Legolas’ attention back to the dwarf.

Gimli raised his eyebrows at Legolas’ incomprehension.

*~ The wedding night. Ilúvatar, I have to spend the night with her – alone. ~*

Gimli burst out laughing at the shade of green Legolas turned – obviously he had understood what Gimli was talking about.

^Green is definitely your colour, Legolas.^

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 “You look lovely, tonight, my Lady,” Faramir graciously complimented Rhinure.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“It seems as if Legolas finds you beautiful tonight,” Faramir said with great amusement.

*~ Why does he keep staring at me? ~* Rhinure found that she did not have much of an appetite.

“Does he?”

“He keeps looking at you, my Lady. It seems you have a very impatient husband.”

*~ Yes, husband. He is my husband now. What have I done! ~* Rhinure turned to stare at Legolas – telling him to stop looking at her. People where whispering about them and it made her uncomfortable.

*~ His eyes upon me make me uncomfortable. ~*

Unfortunately for her, Legolas seemed to have no intention of looking away.

*~ Why are his eyes so blue? It is most unfair. ~* Rhinure thought a little petulantly. It had been a long time since she had thought about the injustice of life. Legolas seemed to bring those old feelings tumbling out of her.

*~ Most unfair. ~*

Faramir chuckled lightly. It was unlikely that he was going to get much conversation from Rhinure today.

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Thranduil watched his son and Rhinure with great satisfaction, noting minutely the way they kept staring at each other. Even if it was not the love filled gaze he would have wished for, at least they could not keep their eyes off each other.

*~ Maybe I can hope for grandchildren soon? ~*

He watched Legolas’ face go absolutely green when Gimli mentioned the wedding night.

*~ Then again, maybe not. ~*

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The Feast, and celebrations lasted well into the night, until Thranduil felt it was time to retire. It would not do to have the newly wed couple too tired.

He rose from his chair calling for the revellers attention, “I thank you all for joining us on this momentous occasion. I ask you all to join me and raise our glasses to wish my son and his bride great happiness.”

“To Prince Legolas and Princess Rhinure.”

Rhinure was a little startled at hearing her new title. She was now Princess of the Woodland Realm. It still felt strange on her tongue. However, she impassively accepted the congratulations of those around her, never giving a hint of her distaste.

“We have one more gift to give our new daughter,” Thranduil’s pronouncement pulled her out of her thoughts. He lifted her up from her chair so that all could see her. “It has been a long time since this Crown was worn in Mirkwood. We give it to you with great joy and love. May you always wear it with pride.”

Before Rhinure could react, Thranduil placed a Mithril circlet on her head; the precious metal glittering against her dark hair. It nestled there for all to see; Mirkwood had a new Princess.

Thranduil bent over to whisper in Rhinure’s ear, “Eruante loved that Crown. I hope you will wear it in remembrance of her.”

*~ Over my dead body. ~* However, Rhinure titled her head in Thranduil’s direction

Thranduil took that to be acceptance on her part. He did not see the way her eyes blazed with the coldest of fires. Legolas, who only caught a glimpse of it, felt as if death had touched him. He shuddered; tonight it was so easy to forget who Rhinure was – Avari, Sacrifice. Before he could say anything, ask anything, Thranduil continued, “I present to you, my new daughter, Princess Rhinure of Mirkwood.”

The entire Hall burst out in thunderous applause; whatever they felt for Rhinure personally, it was good to have a woman in the Royal family again. Rhinure knew that the applause was less for her and more for her title, and the woman who could not be there – Eruante. Her eyes froze even more, becoming empty holes.

Legolas watched as his wife became the Sacrifice. Something was going through that devious mind of her and he was going to find out.

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“If my Lord will excuse me, I would like to retire to my chambers now,” Rhinure said to Thranduil.

Thranduil graciously nodded, and turned back to Faramir and the conversation he was having about Gondor.

Rhinure strode out of the chambers, movements deadly but unnoticed by anyone.

Legolas controlled his curiosity. He would have to stay with his father until all the guests had left. Hopefully, that would not be long since the final toast has been made.

^Do not worry, Elf. She will wait for you.^ Gimli chuckled.

*~ That is what I am afraid of. ~*

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